


seeing angels

by Tazmaster



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, Falling In Love, Love Languages, M/M, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazmaster/pseuds/Tazmaster
Summary: Bucky tries not to think anything of it, when Sam’s hand stays for just a bit longer than it should. Sam pulls away, looking back at the water, but the touch still lingers. He can’t help but wonder what exactly Sam was trying to tell him.---Bucky tries to decipher Sam's love language.





	seeing angels

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I have kept my feelings to myself (I could find no language to describe them in)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202018) by [theappleppielifestyle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle). 

> title from angels by khalid

Stark’s funeral is a lot, for everyone.

Bucky does not have any fond memories of Tony, never really got the opportunity to make any if he was being honest. Their shared history was a combination of too many factors out of their own control. There was no room for comfort or redemption between them, especially with the aftermath of their fight.

There are just some things you can't take back.

However, when Pepper moves to send the arc reactor off, Bucky feels himself starting to tear up. He isn't sure what his tears are for. The fall of a hero? What could have been?

Bucky has always been a bit of a crier, ever since he was young. During the war, it was hard to manage, especially the fallen soldiers--- fallen _friends_.

Sam is standing next to him, his presence strong and comforting. Bucky stares across the water, watching the current gently take the reactor away. Then he looks down at the grass under his feet, wiping his eyes.

Bucky feels a hand on his shoulder and stiffens. He turns his head to look at Sam, who gives his shoulder a firm squeeze in reply. His eyes are kind, in a way that makes Bucky relax. And then, it hits him.

Sam is touching his shoulder.

The thing is, after Bucky was so graciously turned into a brainwashed assassin, people tended to keep their distance. It wasn’t always on purpose and honestly, he didn’t blame those people. He isn’t even sure if he would trust himself after everything he’s done.

Bucky tries not to think anything of it, when Sam’s hand stays for just a bit longer than it should. Sam pulls away, looking back at the water, but the touch still lingers. He can’t help but wonder what exactly Sam was trying to tell him.

* * *

Bucky notices that Sam hasn’t stopped staring at the shield for almost an hour now, which he doesn’t blame him. He’s not sure how he’d react if he’d received something like it either. The shield itself, simple colors and simple shapes, but somehow carries a world full of complexities.

When they get “home”, Sam abandons the shield, dropping it onto the kitchen table with a hefty thud. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes past Bucky into the room he’s claimed and stays there for the rest of the day.

They have to meet up with Sharon tomorrow morning, so Bucky hopes that Sam feels up to it so they both don’t have to be alone. He thinks about walking in and asking Sam how he’s doing, because getting the news that Steve was leaving wasn’t easy for him either. In fact, he’d rather just push all of those feelings down and try not to think about them.

Would he be overstepping if he went and knocked on his door? What would Bucky say to him? He would hate to overwhelm him even more. Bucky runs his right hand over the smooth vibranium of the— Sam’s shield. They weren’t exactly what Bucky would call close. _But I’d like to be some day_, he thinks, letting his mind wander to the way Sam touched his shoulder.

Maybe that’s what Sam wants too.

* * *

“So Steve…” Sharon trails off, trying to process what they told him. That Steve did in fact, leave to go back to the past, to Peggy. It must be weird for Sharon, considering her history. “My aunt? How does that work?”

“We have no idea.” Sam says flatly. “And I don’t want to think about it much.”

Bucky knows Steve’s decision bothers the two of them both. He’s bothered too, what with the way Steve pulled him aside, telling Bucky he was going to leave as if he was just going to the store.

“Well, my aunt was a lovely woman.” It’s supposed to be funny, but there’s no hint of playfulness behind it. “I hate to say it, but the shield is still technically government property.” Sharon explains, folding her arms on the table. “I don’t know what’s going to happen once they find out what Steve’s done.”

There’s an unspoken implication there, which Bucky knows makes Sam feel uneasy because he starts to rip his straw wrapper bit by bit. Bucky has a strange urge to reach out and comfort Sam, but he doesn’t give in.

“They’ll take it away from me.” He states, crushing bits of paper between his fingers.

“Something like that, yeah.” Sharon frowns, face pulling into something thoughtful. “I’ll help you as best I can, Sam.” She gives an assuring squeeze to his arm, which wills him to stop tearing up the paper. He gives a nod back to her and returns her gesture. A conversation.

“The worst you will have to do is work with them on their terms, but it might also be for the best.” She shrugs, but Bucky can tell she knows Sam hates the idea. Before the Snap, Steve, Nat and Sam were criminals to the government. It was unlikely they were just going to turn around and let Sam do whatever he wanted.

_That’s because of you, Soldier._

Bucky pushes the thought away and leans slightly closer to Sam.

* * *

“Hey, you wanna go on a run?” Sam asks, poking his head into Bucky’s room. It’s a rare day where Sam doesn’t have anywhere to go, Bucky assumes. Bucky peeks over his covers to look at him. His room is somewhat trashed at the moment, stray laundry and water bottles everywhere, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Wilson, the sun isn’t even fully out yet.”

“Perfect.” Sam insists, walking over to Bucky and poking his back. He grunts in reply, pulling the covers over his head. Bucky continues getting poked for another minute before he finally lifts himself out of bed, only to grab his other pillow and hit Sam with it.

Bucky is not a morning person, never has been. He knows that Steve and Sam used to go on early runs, which is how they met and all, but Bucky is definitely not Steve. He appreciates some sleep.

Sam huffs, tugging the pillow out of Bucky’s hands and clutching it. “Really, Barnes? Childish.”

“Says the guy who won’t stop poking me to death.”

“Well, I got you up didn’t I? Come on.” Sam grabs his metal hand like it’s nothing and drags Bucky out of bed. Sometimes, Bucky forgets how strong Sam actually is, though most of it is in his thighs.

_Not the time_, Bucky thinks to himself as Sam pulls him along.

* * *

Bucky likes the morning jog, more than he cares to admit. It’s nice to be at pace with Sam, even if Bucky was only going half the speed he could.

As they run, Sam explains to Bucky where he’s been. It’s a lot of logistics and technicalities, Sam doesn’t exactly want to be working for SHIELD but he’s decided if it’s what he has to do, then he’ll find a way to work around it. The press is already pulling him around for publicity, everyone wants something from Sam.

Sam is busy. Like really busy.

Sam gets dragged around for important things, like meetings or mission debriefs, but he also stars in interviews on late shows and photoshoots for magazines. Bucky wonders how much of this Steve had to do, what with maintaining a public image in the 21st century. It wasn't as simple as a couple of scripted dancing shows and fake smiles these days.

They eventually slow down near a park bench. Sam takes a minute to catch his breath before taking a seat. Bucky sits next to him, turning his attention to the sky. The sun is just starting to peak over the trees, the soft brush of cool morning air on his bare legs and the chirping of the birds. Bucky can hear Sam’s soft breathing next to him. It’s peaceful. Maybe the most comfortable he’s ever been.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Sam tells him, elbowing his side.

Bucky turns to him and smiles.

* * *

Bucky gets up early on his own for once. He blames Sam, because always gets up at ungodly hours. Bucky thinks about going on a run, but he opts for making himself breakfast instead. He settles on the couch with his coffee and toast, laptop nestled in his lap. Bucky likes to watch cooking videos on Youtube, call him old if you have to.

A few Bon Appetit videos later, Bucky stumbles on one of Sam’s interviews in his recommended. He places his coffee down on the coffee table and out of curiosity, clicks on the video.

_“This must all be new for you, right? Suddenly being thrown in the spotlight?” The woman asks him, leaning forward in her chair._

_“Oh definitely, it’s a lot to get used to, but I think I’m managing just fine. I’ve had a lot of help along the way.” Sam replies, hand resting on his thigh._

_“Oh? Did Steve Rogers offer any tips to you when he passed the shield? Or was it a sort of “here take this” type thing?”_

_“Um… not really?” Sam rubs his beard. “I know that sounds terrible, but Steve and I… we met at a very weird time in our lives. We’ve been through a lot together. I feel like from the moment that I met him, we were both teaching each other. There was no point where Steve sat me down and told me, ‘This is what Captain America has to be. So here’s what you are gonna do.’ In fact, becoming Captain America never even crossed my mind until he gave the shield to me.”_

_“That’s certainly very—“_

“You watch my interviews?” A voice asks behind him, mouth full of cereal. He can feel Sam’s face inches away from his own, leaning over his shoulder. Bucky quickly snaps his laptop shut, effectively cutting off the interviewer mid-sentence.

“No.” Bucky says stupidly, but it makes Sam laugh so maybe it was worth it. He silently curses himself for not hearing Sam go into the kitchen, feeling his face get hot.

“Don’t worry about it. Your secrets are safe with me.“ Sam pats his shoulder and joins him on the couch, flicking the TV on. He has a nice striped sweater on this morning. “I liked that one. She was a nice lady, asked good questions.”

“How do you handle it?” Bucky gets a thoughtful hum from Sam as he chews his cereal. “All of the… publicity.”

“You looking to interview me now too?” Sam cracks a smile, but continues, “Captain America… it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” His smile falters. “It just means so many different things to so many different people. Good and bad. And some days it’s like— What if I’m not the Captain America people want me to be?” He sets down his bowl and rests his arms on his knees.

_You are everything anyone could want._ That’s what Bucky wishes he says, but he lets Sam go on.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugs. “Following Steve’s footsteps is it’s own battle that I don’t think I’ll ever win. I’m just making my own path using what he gave me and hoping it’s the right one.“ He sighs, shaking his head. “There’s so much going on in this country, Bucky. I just feel like I could be doing more. Should be doing more.”

Sam’s words aren’t traveling to Bucky anymore, as if he’s having a conversation with himself. Bucky battles with the idea that he could reach out and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Would Sam understand? Understand that Bucky thinks he’s the bravest and smartest man he’s ever known?

He thinks about it for too long. Sam returns to his cereal, the opportunity still rattling in Bucky’s mind.

* * *

It comes up while Bucky is cooking dinner, something that Bucky has taken some solace in over the past few months. They both trade days where they cook, but Bucky actually enjoys it, likes trying new recipes he finds on Youtube or something. He’s stirring some fettuccine when Sam comes up behind him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Bucky furrows his eyebrows, but the look goes away as quickly as it came.

“What’s cooking?” Sam stares at him for a moment and drops his arm. He peeks into the pot. “Ah, pasta.” His eyes wander to the plate with steaming pieces of chicken on it and reaches over. Bucky slaps Sam’s hand away before he can take anything.

“Stop that.” Bucky scolds him. “You can wait a few more minutes.” He stirs in some heavy cream and some Parmesan cheese as Sam takes a seat at the table.

“You doing okay?” Sam asks him and frankly, Bucky doesn’t really know how to answer. He can’t stop thinking about Sam, but he’s not sure how to say that without seeming weird.

“You do this thing.” Bucky says instead, trying to pick out the right words. He puts his spoon down and turns to face him. God, he wishes that he was better at communicating. Sam looks back from the kitchen table, confused.

“What thing?”

“Like— I don’t know. This thing.” Bucky continues, gesturing with his hands. “You do this thing where you touch my arm or my shoulder and I’m just trying to figure it out. Trying to figure out what you are saying to me.”

Sam blinks for a moment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I—No. You don’t have to stop. I just—“_ Wish I knew how to say it back._

Sam shrugs. “It’s okay, Buck. I got you. I understand.”

No, that’s— Fuck.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky blurts out without thinking. “You’ve just been the only thing on my mind lately.”

Bucky realizes he’s made a mistake when the corners of Sam’s mouth curl up slightly. He turns back around to add chicken to the pot, distracting himself with stirring it in and not looking at Sam.

There are many ways to interpret what Bucky said. At least, that’s what he tells himself. The thought of Sam knowing that Bucky likes him more than a friend, more than anything, is terrifying.

The crackles and pops of the stove fill the awkward silence, but Bucky can feel Sam’s eyes on him.

* * *

They are sitting together on the couch, watching some terrible Netflix movie they’ve just added. Bucky doesn’t care for it at all and neither does Sam, it just something they can both make fun of. It’s also something Steve probably would have liked, they teased, because Steve always had a shit taste in movies.

Bucky can’t get drunk, so he’s mostly drinking with Sam as a comfort. Beer isn’t his first pick by all means, sometimes he doesn’t like the taste, but it’s fine to mull over for a few hours.

Sam sips his beer before saying, “Okay, so tell me why this guy is in like— every teen romance movie on here.” He gestures his bottle to the TV and frowns. “There’s gotta be more people out there than just him. He’s not even that good looking.”

“I dunno,” Bucky mumbles. “I wasn’t exactly a catch at his age either.”

Sam looks at him like he just spoke another language, eyebrow raised. “I think you forget who spent two whole years looking for you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bucky asks, taking a swig and looking back at the TV.

“It means I’ve seen more pictures of you that I probably should.” Sam insists and then his face twists in confusion when Bucky cracks a smile. “No, not like that you idiot.” He shoves Bucky on the shoulder playfully. “I mean I’ve seen you— when you were younger. You looked… good.”

Bucky pushes the shoulder touch into the farthest part of his mind to make space for an even larger thought. “Wilson, are you saying you have a crush on me?”

“Had.” Sam says firmly, but there’s something else that makes Bucky believe otherwise. Maybe it’s the beer. “I learned about you in highschool. I saw pictures of you then too. And you know, I’m not a blind man.”

“So you had a crush on me in highschool?”

“Okay, stop that.” Bucky can see Sam getting flustered, his lips are curled in an awkward but cute smile. He watches him take another drink of his beer to hide it. Bucky lets out a loud laugh.

“Good to know that even when I’m dead, I'm still a catch.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but looks back at Bucky softly. In such a way that makes Bucky feel like melting into the couch and staying there for the rest of his life. "What did you want to do when you were younger? Before the war?" He asks, hands fidgeting with his beer.

Bucky thinks for a moment. The thing was, during the 40's, the Barnes were somewhat well off. Reckon, Bucky had to take care of his sisters on his own pretty often, but his parents had demanding jobs. He understood that, so being the oldest of four meant taking care of everything else.

"I wanted to be a writer." Bucky says, more clearly than he remembers it. It's familiar on his tongue, he thinks, and it catches Sam's attention.

"A writer?"

"Yeah, I uh-- used to write a lot when I was younger." Bucky feels like he's talking through water. Garbled and distorted. He goes slowly as he continues, like piecing together a puzzle. "I wasn't any good at it. I think they were sci-fi mostly. My stories. I used to read them outloud to Steve when he was bedridden." Bucky sets his beer down on the coffee table. He scratches his beard.

"Do you still write?" Sam asks carefully.

"Stories? No, not really. I still journal though. Did it during the war. It was the only thing that--" He stops there. Kept me alive.

Bucky guesses that Sam fills in the blanks, because he scoots over ever so slightly so that their thighs touch. It's that comfort again, the warm stability that Bucky gets every time Sam touches his skin.

"And what about you?" Bucky asks. "What did you want to do?"

A smile tugs back on Sam's lips and it's here that Bucky realizes that he is seeing a very different Sam than everyone else does.

It not that Sam isn't genuine, everything he does is honest and true. Bucky knows that. In fact, it's one of the only things he's sure of. To be vulnerable, to be open and so beautiful. Every smile, every slip of laughter or touch. Sam fills his headspace, flies circles around it until Bucky can't think anymore.

"Believe it or not, I've always wanted to be a pilot." Sam says and there's a glitter in his eye when he begins. "It's kind of dumb actually, but I used to collect these--" Sam makes a pinching motion. "--tiny model airplanes. I used to have a whole shelf of them."

"Oh, that's--"

"Stupid?"

"Adorable." Bucky assures him. "It's absolutely adorable."

Bucky lets himself imagine a young Sam, with his toothy smile, playing with toy airplanes. Part of Bucky wonders what would have happened if Sam met the old him. The young man from the 40’s who’s words slipped so effortlessly off his tongue and swept people away so quickly.

Luckily, Sam only knows one version of Bucky and Bucky isn’t sure if Sam would like the old him the same.

Sam’s sweet laughter interrupts his thoughts. "I technically never got to be a pilot, but I'm happy with what I got now." He bumps their shoulders together and glances at Bucky.

Bucky's face feels hot. He’d blame it on the beer, but he knows he can’t. Thanks super serum. He looks back at Sam.

“Well, I think I’m happy with what I got now too.”

* * *

Bucky finds Captain America’s instagram when Sam tugs on his jacket one day and leans in for a picture, bright smile planted on his face.

Bucky blinks stupidly before he realizes and grins out of reflex. He watches Sam pull his phone away and looks at their photo. He smiles. “I think I might keep this one for myself.”

(Bucky finds out later after a quick google search that Sam did in fact, keep it.)

"Are you sure you want me here?" Bucky tugs on his jacket sleeve and watches the scurrying crew run around. One young man is jugging lattes in one hand and pastries in the other. “Not exactly sure if this is my scene.”

Sam had asked Bucky to come with him to one of his interviews, which although Bucky isn’t great with crowds, he still said yes to anyway. Who could say no to Sam?

“Is anything your scene, Barnes?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just kidding. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know.” He turns to Bucky with a soft expression._ But I’d appreciate it if you would._

And so Bucky stays.

* * *

Bucky shifts awkwardly in his seat, right in the front row. This is the first time Bucky has ever actually watched any of Sam’s interviews live. They are usually short and sweet, but some of them have questions that really grind his gears. Bucky hopes this isn’t the case tonight, because he can’t go ruining their public image right now.

Sam is wearing a dark blue suit, with a white shirt that’s unbuttoned slightly so you can see some of his collar bone. He looks great, as per usual.

“Captain America, thank you for joining us tonight.” The host greets, grinning at the audience.

“Thank you. Thanks for having me.” Sam smiles back at him, but Bucky knows it’s not the same as the ones he gets. Sam leans over to shake the host’s hand, something that Bucky notices he always does at these things.

“So, Sam, how has it been?” The host leans back in his chair. “Becoming Captain America, I mean. I see you everywhere.”

“It hasn’t been easy, that’s for sure.” Sam adjusts his sleeve. “I’m grateful for it though, it’s been one of the best experiences I’ve ever had.”

Bucky frowns for a moment, tries not to focus on the times that he’s seen Sam shut down. When a mission is too hard or the public too overwhelming. When his bedroom door closes and doesn’t open till the next morning. Of course, no one here gets to see that.

“And you’ve brought the shield with you today is what I hear?”

Sam laughs. “Yes.” He reaches behind his chair to pull it out, shining against the lights above. “Yes, I have.”

The audience around Bucky erupts into cheers and whistles, which makes him wince at first. Sometimes, things are too loud for Bucky, making his headspace feel like mush, but he gets up to clap along with them anyways, because he’s clapping for Sam.

For Captain America.

* * *

The rest of the bit goes smoothly. Sam has always been good with entertaining people. Bucky meets him backstage after Sam's spot is over. He's strung up too tight, he thinks. Sam's shoulders are stiff, his arms crossed over his chest.

He carries the world on his shoulders as if he’s the only one who can do it, Bucky thinks.

"Hey, you were great." Bucky tells him with a smile. He watches some of the tension release from Sam's body.

"You think so?' Sam replies, dropping his arms. "Man, those never get any easier."

Bucky nods. "Yeah, they loved you." _But then again, who wouldn't?_

"You don't need to go sweet on me, Barnes." Sam bites his lip to hold back a smile and the small curve of his mouth alone makes Bucky want to melt into a puddle.

Before they can say anything else, someone calls out, "Mr. Wilson, a minute please?" Sam looks over his shoulder, then turns to put a hand on Bucky’s arm, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Stay right here.” He says, almost like a plea. “Promise we'll be home soon." Sam drops his hand and hurries away, leaving Bucky’s heart beating too fast. Bucky rubs his arm over the spot where Sam’s hand was without even thinking about it.

He watches as Sam gets flooded with a wave of people he doesn’t recognize and wonders if they know Sam like he does. Or if Sam gives the same touches to them with the same messages that Bucky tries so desperately to translate.

Interrupting his thoughts, Sam catches Bucky’s gaze for just a moment, giving him a small smile between the movement of the crowd before turning away.

* * *

When they get in their car, Bucky can't help but notice how exhausted Sam is. He's curled up against the door, head leaning on the glass as the street lights bounce off of his skin. His hand rests kindly against his thigh as he stares out the window.

Bucky lets his mind wander as their chauffeur takes them home. Thinks about the way Sam touched his shoulder, the way he brushed their legs together or the way he held onto his arm just an hour before. It comes so naturally for Sam, the small touches.

And so, Bucky carefully reaches over and takes Sam’s hand. Easily, Sam’s fingers curl around his, as if their hands were made to fit together. Two missing pieces that have been lost from the puzzle for far too long.

But now, it’s complete.

**Author's Note:**

> this went through so much reworking, but its finally done! this is the longest fic ive ever posted!
> 
> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! feel free to leave a comment, thank you :)
> 
> check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/tazatouilles) and [tumblr](http://tazatouille.tumblr.com)


End file.
